


Sleepover

by wendelah1



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-06
Updated: 2010-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 23:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendelah1/pseuds/wendelah1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeffrey was three years old when his mother disappeared for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepover

Jeffrey was three years old when his mother disappeared for the first time. The night before, she read him "Good Night, Moon," tucked him in, and kissed him, just as always. But when he walked into his parents' bedroom the next morning, she was gone. His father told him simply that she was sick, and had to go to the hospital so she could get well again. She would be back soon, he said, but until she was well, Mrs. Monroe was going to stay with them. He didn't have a clear recollection of what happened after that; in fact, he didn't have many memories of his early childhood at all, but he did remember that first time: seeing her empty, neatly made-up bed, his father standing beside it, smoking a cigarette. He thought he might have cried, but he wasn't certain.

His mother did come back in a few days, and life went on, except that she cried a lot and was too tired for a while to take him to the park. This was the pattern of his life for the next few years. Everything would get back to normal, or what passed for normal in the Spender household; then without warning, his mother would be gone and one of a series of caretakers would appear and stay in their house until she returned. Sometimes she was gone for only a few hours, sometimes like the first time, it was for a few days. When Jeffrey asked his father why she had gone, if he replied at all, his father always said the same thing: his mother was sick and would be back when she got better. But the truth was she always seemed sicker when she returned.

He remembered the second time she went away a little better. That time, he cried and cried. His babysitter's name was Emily. He went and hid under the bed and wouldn't come out. He wasn't sure but he thought his mother came back after just a day that time, although it seemed like much longer.

He started refusing to go to bed at night unless he was in his parents' bed. This worked until he started wetting the bed; after that he always woke up in his own room. He complained that his stomach hurt and his head ached. He started refusing to eat most foods. Eventually, it got to where he would only eat Campbell's Chicken and Stars soup and peanut-butter and grape jelly sandwiches, at least when his mother was gone.

Kindergarten was a hard year. He wasn't used to being around other children and got into a playground fight on the first day of school over a ball. He didn't like to share, made no effort to get along, and didn't care about the other children's feelings. Naturally, he felt this was not his fault, when he was called to the principal's office where it was gently explained to him. The other problem was that he wasn't dressed quite right. All of the other kindergartners at St. Anselm's looked freshly scrubbed, with their clean, neatly pressed shirts and pants, their socks that always matched. He looked wrong, but he didn't know who to tell or even what to say.

First grade had started out better. His first grade teacher was young and pretty, with short blonde hair like his mother. The woman who had been engaged to watch him during his mother's hospital stays took better care of him. Betsy made sure he was always bathed, got the laundry done, even talked him into trying different foods. He slept better than he had since he was three. He even stopped wetting the bed; this time, he thought it was for good. Most importantly, he made some friends. The first grade was twice the size as the kindergarten, and someone had wisely decided he needed a fresh start.

On November 27, 1973, everything changed again. He woke up to find his mother gone, but this time no one came to stay with him. His father told him that his mother was going to be gone for a long time, and that Jeffrey was going to go away too. This was too much for him. He laid down on the floor and refused to move. His father finally had to carry him kicking and screaming to the car.

That very same day, he was sent by airplane to live with his grandparents in San Diego. His grandparents were there waiting for him at the airport. It was the first time he remembered meeting them, although they sent him birthday cards, and Easter cards and Christmas money every year. His grandmother had come to stay with them after he was born, but of course, he didn't remember that. There were pictures of him when he was two sitting on his grandmother's lap, with his mother on one side and his grandfather on the other. He didn't remember that either.

The stewardess who had sat with him during the flight was named Anita. She had curly brown hair and smelled like a flower. "He was an angel during the flight, not a peep out of him," Anita said cheerfully.

His grandmother looked relieved."I'm glad to hear that." His grandmother smiled at him. "Hi, Jeff. We are so happy to see you, sweetie." She hesitated for a moment then asked, "May I give you a hug?" When Jeffrey nodded, she put her arms around him and gave him a squeeze. After a minute she pulled back, then knelt down until she was at his eye level. "Your mother will be in the hospital for a long time, according to what little your father told us."

"What's wrong with Mommy! Daddy wouldn't tell me anything!" Jeffrey blurted out, tears welling up.

His grandmother had tears in her eyes, too. She wiped them away, and took his hand. "Your mother is very sick. But your daddy said the doctors were still trying to find out what's wrong. Once they know for certain, then they can help her get better, Jeff. Until then you are going to live with us. Your father did tell you that, at least?" She sounded kind of mad to Jeffrey.

"No," he said faintly. "Daddy just said Mommy had to go away. He couldn't take care of me, so I was coming to live here with you and Grandpa." His grandmother said nothing but she looked up at his grandfather, who frowned and shook his head.

"Well that last part was true at least," she said softly. She stood up, still holding his hand. "You need to get going, Richard. Your flight leaves in thirty minutes." She turned back to Jeffrey. "Your grandfather is flying to Washington to see your mother."

"Why can't I go see her? She's my mommy," Jeffrey pleaded.

"Hospitals are often very strict about who may visit. You aren't allowed to visit because you are too young," his grandmother explained.

His grandfather leaned over and gave his wife a kiss. "Get someone to help you with the luggage, Jeannie. Don't try to lift those heavy bags on your own." He cleared his throat. "I'll, uh, call you from the house when I get there."

His grandmother nodded. "Let me know the minute you know anything. Come on, Jeff, let's go get your bags, then we can get you home and feed you some dinner. "

****

"This is going to be your room," said his grandmother. She showed him the twin beds with the white chenille bedspreads, the lime green dressers with the turquoise knobs. There was a small white desk in the corner with a Mickey Mouse lamp. She helped him put his underwear and socks in one drawer, his pants and shirts in another.

He pointed to the lamp. "That's Mickey." Jeffrey liked cartoons. "Where should I put my jammies?"

His grandmother smiled. "Where do you put them at home?"

"Under my pillow," he replied, resisting the urge to put his thumb in his mouth.

"Well then, pick out the bed you want to sleep in, put them away. You can watch some T.V. while I fix your dinner."

It was still light outside even though it was past dinnertime, Jeffrey was sure. He had eaten turkey dinner, with mashed potatoes and green beans on the plane. He had left the green beans but Anita didn't care. "We had dinner on the plane. Can I still watch T.V.?"

She hesitated, then her face softened. "Of course, you can. Let's go into the den, I'll show you how to turn on the set. There may not be much on right now except news, but let's see what we can find." She led him into a small room furnished with a sofa sitting in front of a large sliding door, a neatly arranged desk on one wall, over-crowded bookshelves on the opposite, and a television console sitting next to the doorway. He eagerly sat cross-legged right in front and waited for her to turn it on. "You're sitting too close to the set, move back a little," she coaxed. He obediently scooted back, and wriggled a little.

He settled down in front of a rerun of "The Partridge Family." Their mother was named Shirley, and she had short blond hair like his mom did, but they didn't have a daddy. He tried to remember what had happened to him. Maybe their daddy was sick all the time like his mommy. He tried not to think about when he might see her again. He put his thumb in his mouth and then took it out quickly. He was a big boy now. Big boys didn't suck their thumbs.

_"Hello world, here's a song that we're singing,_  
_Come on get happy_  
_A whole lotta lovin' is what we'll be bringing_  
_We'll make you happy."_

The next thing he knew he was waking up in a bed that wasn't his. It was dark now. It took a minute before he remembered that he was at his grandparents'. He needed to go potty but he didn't know where it was, so he climbed out of bed and opened the bedroom door. He could hear his grandmother's voice down the hall. He was dry which made him feel better. He hadn't wet his pants for a long time.

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. What do you mean the house was empty?" Grandmother sounded upset. He walked toward her voice.

"But that doesn't make any sense. What happened to all of their furniture?"

"Where are you now? Let me get a pencil and paper." She stopped when she saw Jeff in the doorway. "Just a minute, Richard, Jeff is out of bed."

"What is it, Jeff? It's way past your bedtime." She sounded cross, not like she had earlier, until she saw his face. "Look, I'm sorry, sweetie. Just tell me what you need. "

"I need to use the potty." Jeffrey announced.

She sighed. "Of course you do. It's right next to your room. Let me show you." She put the receiver back to her ear. "Hold a minute ... I know it's long distance ... Fine then. Call me back." She hung up the phone and took his hand. "Can you manage on your own?"

Jeffrey was indignant. "I'm not a baby."

When he had finished, he washed his hands, then walked back to the living room. Grandmother was sitting on the sofa, next to the telephone. She looked worried but smiled when she saw him, and patted the sofa cushion next to her. When the phone rang, she grabbed the receiver so hard, she nearly dropped it. Jeffrey sat down. She slid her free arm around him, squeezed him briefly, then picked up the pencil.

"Rick, I need to call you back after I get Jeff back to bed...Yes, I do. Go ahead. " She scribbled on the pad she had balanced on her lap. "Okay. It's late here, too. You'll let me know as soon as you hear anything... I love you, too. Do you want to say hi to Grandpa, Jeff?"

"Hi Grandpa, " he said shyly.

"Hi, Jeff." His voice sounded far away. Sad.

"Say hi to Mommy. Tell her I love her."

"I will, Jeff. Let me talk to your grandmother now." Jeffrey handed the phone back.

"Yes. Okay. I'll try." She stood up and took Jeffrey's hand. "Let's get you in bed."

"I don't want to go to bed. I want my own bed. Why can't my dad take care of me? I want my mommy!"

Grandmother looked sad. "I know you do, Jeff."

"I'm going to miss my lessons. Miss Anderson is going to be mad at me. I told my friend Tommy that I would meet him after school. I was going to get to have a sleepover." He was past trying to keep himself together.

"We'll call your school Monday, and find out what work you're missing. I can help you get caught up," she said soothingly. "You'll get to have a sleepover when you go home."

There was still one thing that was worrying him."You said to Grandpa that someone's furniture was gone. Where did it go? Who took it?"

"You don't need to be concerned about that. That was an old friend. They had a robbery. But the police will catch the bad men . . ." her voice trailed off.

"And kill them dead and put them in jail!" Jeffrey proclaimed.

That night he had the dream about his mother flying up into the sky. They were driving along a winding mountain road. He felt a little carsick, but he didn't want to tell his mother. It was daytime but suddenly the sunlight was gone. Then the car stopped dead in the middle of the road. His mother got out of the car. Jeffrey knew this was a bad idea. "Don't go," he called out. He got out of the car, and saw his mother floating high above his head, toward a bright white light, a light so strong it hurt his eyes to look at it. "Mommy, Mommy," he cried but she didn't hear him. She never does.

****

Jeffrey happily spent Thursday in front of the television, while his grandmother sat anxiously by the phone. He ate his peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches and chicken noodle soup, the kind he liked best, with stars. There were Oreo cookies for dessert. After he started crying when she told him four was enough, Grandmother had let him have as many as he wanted, "just this once."

John-Boy Walton was saying good-night to his parents and his brothers and sisters when at last the phone rang.

"Hello. Rick! Why didn't you call sooner?" Grandmother's voice was loud. He turned around to stare at her.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" She lowered her voice, glancing at Jeffrey. "I thought our friend was in the hospital?

"I don't understand.

"You checked all of them." She stood, picked up the receiver and walked as far away as the extension cord allowed. "What about psychiatric?

"Look, I can't talk now. He's right here.

"Well, I'm not sure when. It was hard to get him to fall asleep.

"I love you, too." She hung up without saying good-night or asking Jeffrey if he wanted to talk to Grandpa.

Friday and Saturday passed much the same way. They had to make a quick trip to the store for more chicken and stars soup. On Sunday afternoon, they drove to the airport to pick up Grandpa. His grandparents hugged for a long time in the airport. The ride home was quiet. Grandmother went straight to bed. Dinnertime was T.V. dinners, followed by more television. Grandpa said it was time he ate something besides peanut butter and soup, that it was fine if he didn't want to eat, but this was what was for dinner.

Despite his best efforts at stalling, eventually it was bedtime. Jeffrey lay awake in his mother's old bedroom, looking up at the cottage cheese ceiling with glitter sprinkles. If he wanted, he could pretend the ceiling was the sky and the glittery bits were stars. This was the longest his mother had been away that he could remember. He missed her. His grandfather didn't say anything about his mother or when she would be coming home. He had learned that asking his father when Mommy was coming back didn't always produce answers, so he wasn't surprised. She had always come back before but this time seemed different.

There was no one to tell him not to suck his thumb, so he put it in his mouth and finally fell asleep. He dreamed he was locked in a closet. It was dark and cold. He didn't know how he had got there. He called out for help, over and over, until his voice was nearly gone, but no one came. Then suddenly, his grandmother was there, holding him.

****

Staying with his grandparents was like going to summer camp, except he was the only camper. After Grandpa went to his school to teach, Grandmother took him to the zoo, or to Balboa Park to ride the carousel. On the weekend, they all went to Sea World to see the dolphins and the sharks. As wonderful as these adventures were, Jeffrey was usually tired and cranky by the afternoon. If they wanted to leave, he wasn't ready to go; if he said he wanted to go home, they wanted to stay longer. Nearly every excursion ended in tears. Eventually, they settled into a routine that kept them closer to home.

One Saturday night, they drove down to the harbor to watch the big boats go by, all lit up with Christmas lights. Afterward, they drove to McDonald's for dinner. Grandpa was a little sulky. He ordered a Big Mac, fries and a large Coke.

"Richard. We are not driving to L.A. for a burger, not with the price of gasoline. We can't even get gas again until Monday, that's assuming there will be any to buy." Grandmother frowned. She ordered a Filet-O-Fish and a coffee.

"In-and-Out is not just an ordinary burger," Grandpa tried to argue.

Jeffrey was eating a hamburger Happy Meal. He had been worrying about something ever since they had watched "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." He decided he had better ask. It would be better to know the truth.

"If I'm still living here with you, how will Santa know where to bring my presents?"

His grandparents looked at each other. His grandmother spoke first. "Santa always knows where to deliver the presents. You don't have to worry about that, Jeff."

"I suppose this means we're getting a tree." Grandpa sighed.

"Richard."

"Okay, okay."

He was afraid to ask about the other thing he was worried about. Jeffrey wanted to ask if it was his fault his mommy was sick so much. Maybe if he had been a better boy, his dad wouldn't go away all of the time, and his mother wouldn't either.

The weekend after school let out for the holidays, they drove Grandpa to the airport.

"Tell Mommy I love her and I want her to get well so she can come stay with us here in San Diego." Grandpa didn't say anything, he just hugged Jeffrey and kissed Grandma.

"Call as soon as you get to the hotel." Grandpa nodded. He waved as he walked to the plane.

After a week of staying home to be near the phone, watching television, eating canned soup and baloney sandwiches, they drove back to the airport. The ride home was quiet. The next day was Christmas Eve.

Christmas was wonderful, though it would have been better if his parents had been there. He and Grandpa bought a little artificial tree, which they set on the coffee table in the living room, a single string of lights, glass ornaments and tinsel, all at Sav-on. After Grandpa strung the lights, Jeffrey got to put the ornaments on by himself. Finally he hung the tinsel, one piece at a time, taking care to let each strand hang freely, just as his mother had shown him the year before, so it would look more like a real icicle. He got two Hot-Wheels cars, eight Hershey Kisses, two walnuts, and an orange in his stocking, lots of clothes, coloring books, the Big Box of crayons and a huge carton of Lego blocks. He made a Lego fort for the cars to live in, and had made some other blocks into the shape of a gun. He was running around, waving the gun, yelling "Bang! You're dead!" when the telephone rang.

His grandfather answered. "Hello."

"Where the hell have you been? And where's my daughter?"

"Richard!"

"You can talk to Jeff after you tell me where Cassie is."

"Richard! He's right here!" Grandma tried to take his arm, but he pushed her away.

"Don't give me that crap. I looked for her in every damn hospital in Washington D.C., in Maryland and Virginia. I filed a missing persons report. I paid for a P.I. Why haven't you called us? Even if you don't care about. . ." Grandpa looked over at Jeffrey. "I need to take this in the other room," he said to the caller. "Hang this up when I tell you to," he told Grandma, who just nodded.

"Can I talk to Daddy?" Jeffrey wanted to ask Daddy when he was coming to take him home. He liked being with his grandparents but it had been a long time. He wanted to go home.

Grandpa looked so mad, but his face softened when he looked at Jeffrey. "Yes. But not until I say so. You understand?"

Jeffrey wasn't sure he did but he nodded anyway. He got up to sit next to his grandmother, who was now holding the receiver at arms length as though it was a snake and might bite her. When Grandpa yelled "Okay" from the den, she gingerly set the phone on its cradle.

After what seemed like a very long time, his grandfather came back in the room. Grandpa had pushed his mad as far away as he could make it go, but Jeffrey could tell it was still there. "Go ahead. Talk to your father," was all he said.

"Hi, Daddy." There was more he wanted to say but the words weren't there. He didn't know where they'd gone.

"Hello, son. Merry Christmas." He sounded friendly enough, but then he always sounded that way, even when he and Mommy were fighting. Mommy would get mad and yell. Sometimes she'd even go to their bedroom and cry, but Daddy would just light another cigarette. He was probably smoking now. "Your mother is going to be getting out of the hospital soon. When she is well enough, we're all going to be moving to a new house, closer to where her doctors are. It's on an Air Force base in California."

"I don't want to live there! I want to live in our old house! I liked Miss Anderson. I was going to have a sleepover at Tommy's!"

"There'll be lots of airplanes and jets. I'll bet you like planes."

Jeffrey had liked the plane ride to California. "Will I get to ride in them?"

His father was silent for just a moment. "No, I don't think so. Not unless you are much older, and decide to join the Air Force. There is one other thing I need to tell you. There is a little girl who will be coming to live with us. She's eight years old. Her name is Samantha."

Jeffrey was so surprised by this news that he didn't listen to the rest of the conversation. He almost forgot to say good-bye when he hung up the phone. "Grandpa, Grandma! I'm going to have a sister!" Then he burst into tears. He was so bad that they were going to get a new child to replace him. A girl!

His grandmother put her arms around him, "Jeffrey, what is it?"

He sobbed. "They don't want me! They want her instead! My room is gone!"

Grandpa came over to the couch and set Jeffrey in between him and Grandma.

"Now, Jeff. I know you are sad about moving away from your old house, about leaving your friends, your teacher."

"This is the worst Christmas ever! I wish I was dead! I love Miss Anderson! I was going to have a sleepover!" Jeffrey wailed.

"Yes, that's hard. But the one good thing about April Air Force Base is that it's several thousand miles closer to me and your grandma. See, that way, if your mom gets sick again, me and your grandma can drive up and take care of you. In fact, we can see you all of the time, not just when your mom is sick."

"What about Samantha?" He didn't want a sister. No one had asked him if he wanted a sister.

"I don't entirely know what her story is, but it sounds like she's having a worse time of it than you. If she's coming to live at your house, she must not have parents who can take care of her."

Jeffrey was doubtful about that. His parents weren't taking care of him, and he was still living with them, most of the time. But this was a battle he was prepared to lose.

"You'll come to see me all of the time?" he asked suspiciously. "You won't change your mind?"  
What if Samantha is a troll? A mean and ugly troll? "What if Daddy says you can't visit?"

"We won't let that happen. We'll come all of the time, as often as you need us, and we won't change our minds," Grandpa said, looking over at Grandma, who nodded reassuringly, and gave Jeffrey a squeeze.

"I think your mother needs us, too," Grandma added.

Maybe if Grandpa and Grandma were there, his parents wouldn't fight and Mommy wouldn't be sick.

Jeffrey couldn't eat his dinner; he was too excited and upset. He didn't want pie, but he did eat the vanilla ice cream. Grandpa said he was getting spoiled but Grandma said he could because it was Christmas. In their house, he thought maybe Grandma was the boss of everyone, even Grandpa.

Eventually, it was time for bed. He stalled as long as he could, asking for one more show and then one more book. He knew he was pushing the limits. But it was so hard. He kept thinking about leaving his teacher and his friends. Wondering about his toys. He was going to have to make new friends, and go to a new school. But he had his Lego gun, and his thumb, and finally he fell asleep.

That night, he dreamed again that he was locked in the closet. He didn't know how he got there. It was dark and cold, and the floor was hard. He needed the potty; what made it worse was knowing if he wet his pants, he'd be spanked. Jeffrey yelled and yelled, and finally his father came, but he wouldn't let him out. "Oh, no, young man," he said. "You're not going anywhere. You're staying right there until you learn your lesson." That was when Jeffrey remembered how he got into the closet. So he took his gun and shot his father dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and hugs to C, for encouraging my writing, and for all of the late night brain-storming chats. Warm thoughts and hugs to EC, for encouraging my fanfiction obsession. You two are the best.
> 
> To my husband: love, kisses, and open adoration. Your insightful feedback and editing skill made all the difference.
> 
> This story was started a couple of years ago, in response to someone's request for a story about Samantha Mulder and Jeffrey Spender growing up together as children, as was implied by the episode "Closure." I must confess it was slightly influenced by reading "What Maisie Knew" by Henry James.


End file.
